


Trapped

by ASweetRefrain



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Crack, F/F, F/M, M/M, More characters to be added, this is not serious at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASweetRefrain/pseuds/ASweetRefrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the lunatic fringe gets himself in a bit of a mess? The spiders web is sticky and little flies get stuck in the many strands. Keep reading to see what this web will reveal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> More characters to be added. This isn't a serious piece, more like a parody piece. Don't hate me, thanks.

The first thing he feels is sheets. Silken and warm. Not his. He’s laying on his side in a bed bigger than his, head nestled in pillows that smell like some sweet scent he can’t name. It’s early but that doesn’t stop the sun from blinding him through the partially open blinds. He stretches out slowly, the sleep still clinging to him and making him all the more confused.

“Good morning darling!”

He freezes, looking past the edge of the bed towards the bathroom, where the strange voice came from. Pushing himself up to his elbows, Dean looks around, chin tilting curiously in the direction of the noise.

“What the—“ He can’t even think of who it sounds like, but the way she approaches him, trussed up in a skimpy nightgown and robe, makes him smirk a little. If only inwardly.

She leans in, kissing him gently on the lips. Surprise, the feature that has dominated his face for the past minute or so, melts away into urgency as he realizes— She’s not Nikki…

Pushing himself up as she strides out the room again, he frantically searches around for his clothes. Shirt half on, his jeans discarded somewhere, he’s a mess. His inner monologue rambles the whole time as he struggles to pull himself together.

_Oh my god. What have I done? How could I be so stupid to have stayed here till the morning? Must’ve lost track of time._  He reaches for a sock, pulling it on quickly, along with his boots.  _What the fuck was on my mind?_  He shrugs his shirt the rest of the way on, standing to pull his jeans over his thighs.  _Must’ve gone from the club to her home… didn’t plan to stay that long…_  He grabs his jacket, one arm shoved carelessly into the wrong sleeve so it’s upside down.  _Here I am quickly trying to put on my clothes._

He pats down his pockets, trying to find his car keys so he can leave, still frantic in his head. They wink at him from the bedside table, sunlight glaring off of them, and he grabs them, nearly dropping them as he’s still trying to pull on his damn leather jacket.

Suddenly she’s back, just as frantic as him and blocking the way out.

“You can’t go this way!” She says, hands pressing to his chest and pushing him back. He paused for a few seconds, dumbfounded and staring at her like she was insane.

“Woman move out my way. I’ve got a girl at home.” She only shoved him back again, shaking her head.

“Please don’t go out there!”

“Lady, I’ve got to get home!”

“My husband’s coming up the stairs!”

His face went pale and he pressed his hand to his mouth. “Shush, shush, quiet. Hurry up and get in the closet.” She was reaching, that closet was tiny and he was a tall man. “Don’t make a sound, or some shit is going down!” She said, her voice peaky and desperate.

“Why don’t I just go out the window?” He offered, striding over to the mentioned exit.

“Yeah, except for one thing, we’re on the fifth floor!”

_Shit think… Shit… Think… Shit…_  “Put me in the closet.” He mutters, but she doesn’t wait for his response. She shoves him from behind, into the dark, enclosed space, and he’s stuck there for now.

But even with him hidden, neither one feels any relief. Scrambling to make the bed and make herself presentable, Brie is in panic mode. She half jumps on top of the bed when her husband walks in.

“I’m home!”

She covers up a little, pulling her robe closed as she puts on a bright smile for him. “Honey, I’m in the room.”

He walks in, all smiles as he sets down his suitcase. “Honey I missed you…” He says, walking over to the end of the bed and closer to her.

She jumps a little, wrapping her slender legs around his frame and smiling—no beaming back. “I cooked and ran your bathwater…” She coos, and Dean is incredulous.

“Oscar worthy.” He mutters, a little resentful. He watches the coupled through the slats of the closet door and he shakes his head. He is all over her, hands roaming her body and peeling off her clothes. What in the fuck… Dean can’t catch a break.

Suddenly, at the worst of times, his phone begins to ring. Loudly. Ice water in his veins, he rushes to end the call, put it on vibrate, anything. But when he looks up again, the action in the bedroom has stopped and he knows it’s all over.

The pair in the room have stopped, suddenly, and Brie’s husband looks furious. “There’s a mystery going on and I’m going to solve it!” He storms out the room, a tornado of fury as he whirls around the house. Brie tries her best, scrambling as well for some control of the situation.

Dean can hear him slamming open what must be the bathroom door and ripping back the shower curtain. Panic rises in his throat as his heart beats faster and faster.

“Baby come back to bed!” Brie begs, her voice reedy.

“Bitch say no more.” He storms back into the room, diving to the floor to check under the bed as Brie nervously bites at her nails.

Dean’s sweating like hell in the closet, knowing there’s not much room for him to hide and no leeway in this situation. It is what it is.

He pulls out his baretta, which had been tucked in the waistband of his jeans, and gets into a ready position as Brie’s husband looks at the closet.

His eyes find Brie, cowering on the bed, and her husband approaching the door.

Now he’s at the closet…

Dean raises his gun, prepared for the worst.


End file.
